


If I Ever Feel Better

by reconquer



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, its a weed fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 10:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconquer/pseuds/reconquer
Summary: “You can crash here, it’s not a big deal.”“You seem too happy about this,” Yuki mutters.“Of course! I get to have a sleepover with my best buddy.” Kakeru winks at him and Yuki kicks the inside of his thigh again.Like he said. Hell.





	If I Ever Feel Better

**Author's Note:**

> me: what would you write if you were writing this yuki/kakeru weed fic  
anna: that they get postmates and bang
> 
> and so that's what i wrote
> 
> thanks @ganseylesbian for being my lovely beta <3 anna beta'd this too but she told me to write "come" the nasty way so she doesnt get a thank u. title is a phoenix song

Yuki’s in hell.

It’s a Saturday, but it’s nearly school trip season, and the student council is responsible for arranging lodging with the class representatives. It’s a lot more work than Yuki had anticipated. Kakeru must have sensed that he was overwhelmed and insisted they meet and spend the day working. Kakeru might be obnoxious, but he’s good at reading people, something Yuki is a little jealous of.

Kakeru’s apartment is blessedly quiet—it’s just him and his mother in a two-bedroom. It’s cluttered in a lived-in way; there are shoes stuffed haphazardly into a cubby by the door, pots and pans hanging wherever they fit in the crowded kitchen, coupons overlapping photos on a corkboard. It’s a home Yuki would’ve thrived in.

He hadn’t planned on staying for dinner, but Kakeru’s mother had insisted he eat before she left for her shift at the hospital. He also hadn’t planned on getting sucked into the episode of Terrace House that Kakeru had put on, and he _ definitely _hadn’t planned on passing out on Kakeru’s couch. 

“Good morning, princess,” Kakeru says, nudging Yuki’s thigh with his foot. They’re both sprawled on the couch, leaning on opposite headrests, their too-long legs tangled with each other’s. The paperwork Yuki had been looking over is scattered on the floor in front of the couch. Yuki grunts and stretches, making Kakeru hiss, “Man, watch the goods.”

“Sorry,” Yuki says, sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Like, ten.”

“Ugh.” Yuki shoves his bangs out of his face. “I have to go home.”

“Hm, maybe not the best idea,” Kakeru says, gesturing towards the window. “Monsoon. They’re telling people to stay inside, the streets are all flooded.”

Now that he says it, Yuki can hear the rain beating down on the ceiling and the wind whipping through trees and power lines. He groans and puts his face in his hands.

“Don’t worry about it!” Kakeru sits up and smiles. “You can crash here, it’s not a big deal.”

“You seem too happy about this,” Yuki mutters.

“Of course! I get to have a sleepover with my best buddy.” Kakeru winks at him and Yuki kicks the inside of his thigh again.

Like he said. Hell.

Yuki barely suppresses a sigh. “I have to call my cousin and tell him I’m not coming home.”

“You’re calling Kyo?”

Yuki stands up and grabs his phone from the coffee table. “No, the other cousin I live with. Kyo couldn’t care less what I do.”

“Ooh, family drama, tell me more!”

Yuki flips Kakeru off as he walks into the kitchen, phone already pressed to his ear. Kakeru’s laugh follows him out of the room.

Shigure answers after a few rings. His landline is old and doesn’t have caller ID, so it’s always a little strange calling the house and having Shigure speak to him so politely, even if it’s only for a second.

“I’m not coming home tonight,” Yuki informs him.

“Finally becoming a man, are we?” Yuki can almost hear Shigure’s shit-eating grin on the other end. 

“Doubtful. I’m at Manabe’s.”

Shigure clicks his tongue. “And here I was, about to call Aya and tell him the great news.”

“Goodbye, Shigure.” Yuki hangs up before Shigure has the chance to say anything else. 

“All good?” Kakeru chirps, not looking up from his phone when Yuki walks back in. 

“Fine. He mostly lets me do what I want, I just figured I’d let him know.”

“Mmm,” Kakeru hums. “Since you’re over, do you want to smoke?”

Yuki frowns. He didn’t know Kakeru smoked; Shigure’s cigarettes make the house and his clothes reek, so Yuki’s pretty good at picking up on the smell. “I don’t smoke.”

Kakeru rolls his eyes. “Not cigarettes, dumbass.” 

Yuki blinks. 

“Oh,” he says. “I’ve never.”

“You’re such a prude, I figured.”

“Shut up,” he shoots back halfheartedly. 

“So, do you want to? You seem stressed.”

Yuki _ is _ stressed. Yuki is a rule-follower, the golden child, the student council president—but he’s also sixteen, and trapped, and the thought of doing something _ illegal _is making excitement buzz under his fingertips. He nods.

“Cool,” Kakeru grins. “I left some pajamas on my bed for you. It’ll take me a minute to roll a joint.”

Yuki changes in Kakeru’s room. He’s been in here before, briefly, but never by himself. It’s much smaller than Yuki’s room at Shigure’s, painted light blue, old band and movie posters scattered around the walls, an unmade Western-style bed in the corner. There’s piles of stuff on his desk—homework, college pamphlets, an old computer, some lone socks on the floor. It’s much neater than Yuki’s bedroom.

Yuki stops himself. He needs to stop comparing his life to normal people’s. It’s useless wondering about what it could’ve been like if he wasn’t a Sohma, because the fact of the matter is, he is. 

He shakes his head, gets changed, and pads back out to the living room.

Kakeru is sitting on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, doing something Yuki can’t see, his tongue poking out a little bit in concentration. Yuki sits down next to him. 

“What’s it feel like?” Yuki asks. 

“I don’t know, like you’re just really...chill. And everything’s really funny.”

“You’re really painting a picture for me.”

“Fuck off!” Kakeru shoves him with one hand. “You’ll see. I can’t really describe it.”

“Is it like being drunk?”

“Not at all.” Kakeru scowls at him. “When have you been _ drunk_?”

“Oh, my family throws these huge New Year’s parties,” Yuki says. “They don’t really care if the kids drink.”

That’s not strictly true, it’s just that the adults always get so wasted that they stop paying attention to the kids. The year Kagura turned twenty, she had brought flavored sake in with her. Yuki remembers the burn going down, how he had gotten flushed and kind of dizzy. He’s still not sure he liked it, so he’s kind of relieved to hear it’s not like that.

Kakeru licks the rolling papers and presses down on the joint, twisting the end. “Your family’s giant, those parties must be crazy.”

“Yeah, it’s the only time we see everyone.”

“Must be nice to have cousins your own age,” Kakeru says. “My mom’s an only child.”

“You have Kuragi,” Yuki points out.

“That’s different.” Kakeru waves his hand, then picks up the joint. “You ready?”

“I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Kakeru repeats in a mockingly high voice.

“That’s not what I sound like,” Yuki retorts, slapping him between the shoulder blades.

“_Fuck, _ you’re stronger than you look,” Kakeru coughs. He lights the joint and takes a hit. It doesn’t smell good, but not in the same way Shigure’s cigarettes don’t smell good. It’s sweeter, and mellower. “So you have to keep inhaling so it gets to your lungs. Want to try?”

Yuki nods and plucks the joint from Kakeru’s fingers. He’s nervous, but he quashes it while Kakeru lights up for him. 

The second the smoke hits the back of his throat, Yuki is coughing. It _ burns _, and he can feel his eyes watering. He fumbles the joint back to Kakeru’s hands and doubles over, pulling his knees in.

“Hey, hey,” Kakeru says. He can feel Kakeru twisting around and then feels a glass being pressed into his hands. Yuki gulps down the water gratefully.

“Sorry,” Yuki gasps.

“No worries, happened my first time, too. Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, I want to.” Yuki manages to steady his breathing and sit up. It doesn’t feel like an asthma attack; he was probably just surprised. He tries again, and manages to get through it.

They sit quietly for a while, passing the joint back and forth, watching a date unfold on Terrace House. It’s not until Yuki notices that he’s really, really focused on reading the titles of the books on the bookshelf next to the TV that he realizes he’s high.

Yuki laughs, then covers his mouth. Kakeru whips his head to look at him, which makes Yuki laugh harder into his hand.

“Oh, Yuki,” Kakeru grins. Yuki covers his face with his hands. “No, no no no, you don’t get to.”

Kakeru starts pulling Yuki’s hands away from his face, and Yuki’s laughing and kicking and batting Kakeru away. Kakeru’s hands are on his upper arms, and Yuki’s arms are around Kakeru’s neck. Yuki pulls so that Kakeru’s on top of him, and Yuki’s still laughing.

“Jesus, if you wanted a hug, you could’ve just asked.”

“Go to hell,” Yuki responds, delighted.

“God, what the fuck, you’re so weird high.” Kakeru pushes himself up and off Yuki, then stands. “Aw, don’t look at me like that. I’m freezing, I’m just closing the window.”

Yuki didn’t know the window was open. 

Kakeru disappears into the kitchen while Yuki is intently watching a car commercial, and returns a minute later, tossing a bag of chips into Yuki’s lap before plopping down on the couch.

Yuki follows suit, stretching out and resting his legs on Kakeru’s lap. They eat mindlessly, still glued to the TV. Honestly, Yuki has no idea what’s going on in this episode anymore. His body feels buzzy, his head a little light, and he’s hyper focused on the feeling of Kakeru’s fingers fiddling with the elastic in the ankle of the joggers he’s wearing. 

Yuki’s mouth is so dry. He’s not eating anymore, just leaning his head on the couch cushion, watching Kakeru touch his leg. Kakeru looks up at him, and Yuki blinks.

“Are you okay?”

Shit. Was he acting weird? “Yeah. Fine.”

“Yuki.”

“Yes, Kakeru.”

“I want ice cream.”

“So go buy some.”

“No way.” Kakeru wrinkles his nose. He leans off the side of the couch, grabbing his phone from the floor and waving it at Yuki. “I’m tight with all the McDonald’s delivery guys.”

“That is so gross.”

“Please,” Kakeru snorts. “You only eat real food because Miss Honda takes pity on you slovenly Sohma men. Here, pick what you want.”

Yuki thumbs through the menu on Kakeru’s phone. “I’ve never had McDonald’s.”

“What the hell?” Kakeru leans forward, causing Yuki’s knee to bend uncomfortably. “Are you serious?”

“We weren’t allowed to order food into the Sohma estate,” Yuki says, shrugging. “And Shigure likes Japanese food. That’s what we always ordered before Miss Honda started living with us, anyway.”

“Did you grow up in a fucking cult?” Kakeru grabs the phone out of Yuki’s hands. “I’m ordering for us.”

Yuki stares at Kakeru. Did he grow up in a cult? It’s weird that he's never had something as ubiquitous as McDonald’s, he guesses. He’s never really thought about it.

Kakeru shuts his phone off and flops to the side, letting Yuki’s knee out of its cramped position. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kakeru asks again. “I wasn’t serious about the cult thing.”

“I know,” Yuki says quietly.

“It _ is _kind of weird you’ve never had McDonald’s, though, you have to admit.”

Yuki laughs. “I guess so.”

Kakeru picks the mostly-finished joint up from the coffee table and lights it again, blowing the smoke directly into Yuki’s face. 

“Want to play Mario Kart?” He asks, handing Yuki the joint and getting up to set up the console before Yuki can even answer.

“This is so, like,” Yuki pauses, taking a hit. He’s pretty sure he’s got the hang of it now. “I feel like I’m in an American teen comedy.”

“You’re Eric and I’m Hyde,” Kakeru laughs.

“What?”

Kakeru turns around to roll his eyes, then gets up and hands Yuki a controller. “You’ve never seen That ‘70s Show?”

Yuki shakes his head. Kakeru plops down next to him on the couch, his thigh pressed against Yuki’s, and rests his feet on the table. 

“It’s this show about these American kids in the 70’s.” 

“Wow,” Yuki says. “Sounds great.” 

“Oh, shut up, it’s funny,” Kakeru grins. 

“Hit start,” Yuki says, nudging Kakeru’s hand with his own. 

“Impatient,” Kakeru mutters before starting the race. 

Yuki can’t stop falling off the track, and Kakeru keeps jamming his hand over Yuki’s controller to mess him up. It feels like they’re playing for hours by the time the door finally buzzes, but when Yuki looks at his phone, it’s only been about twenty minutes. 

“I’m so ready,” Kakeru says as he rounds the corner of the living room with a bag of food. It’s practically dripping grease, and, suddenly, Yuki’s starving. 

“Same,” Yuki says as Kakeru starts pulling stuff out of the bag. 

“It’s your first time, so we’ll start slow,” Kakeru says, smirking at Yuki and handing him a milkshake. Yuki rolls his eyes, joining Kakeru on the floor. 

Kakeru takes a bite of a chicken nugget and says, “Finish this joint, I’m going to roll a new one.”

“Aren’t we going to be hungover in the morning?” Yuki asks. 

“Yuki! My sweet, sweet Yun-Yun.” Kakeru throws an arm around Yuki’s shoulder and Yuki squirms a little. “The great thing about weed is you don’t get hungover.”

Yuki takes the proffered joint and takes a hit, grinning at Kakeru before coughing a little.

“You should relax more often,” Kakeru says, attention mostly focused on the rolling paper. “You’re cuter that way.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me, too,” Yuki remarks drily. 

“Oh, woe is me, I’m Yuki Sohma and being hot is a curse!” Kakeru lays a hand across his forehead and leans dramatically onto Yuki’s shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Yuki says, squirming away from Kakeru a little more. The back of his neck feels hot.

“Aw, I made you say the fuck word,” Kakeru says, poking at Yuki’s cheek. “Did I embarrass you? Can’t take a compliment?” 

“No, it’s just.” Yuki stirs his milkshake. “I don’t really like all the attention.” 

“Said no one ever,” Kakeru snorts. 

“No, I—”

“I’m kidding, I get it,” Kakeru says. “Seems overwhelming. Girls are crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever, like. Done anything? With them?”

Yuki raises his eyebrows. “With a girl?”

“Or anyone,” Kakeru shrugs. Yuki shakes his head. “Why not?” 

For a split second, Yuki thinks about telling Kakeru about the curse. He’s never been seriously interested in a girl anyway, but even if he was, the curse would probably stop him from pursuing anything. He sometimes wonders if he _ would _take advantage of his looks if he wasn’t cursed, or if shying away from attention is an inherent part of his personality. 

“There wasn’t anyone I was interested in,” Yuki says instead. 

“You’ve never even kissed anyone?”

“No,” Yuki says.

“Do you want to?” Kakeru grins. He’s still pretty close to Yuki’s face, knees bumping up against Yuki’s thigh and his arm pressed against Yuki’s back. 

Yuki blinks. “Right now?” 

“Sure,” Kakeru says. “We’re being rebellious American teens, right?” 

Yuki’s close enough to Kakeru’s face to notice the bit of tension in his smile. His stomach is clenching, and his high is making him feel dizzy. 

Honestly, he’d barely let himself think about what it would be like to do—this. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to. It’s never occurred to him that being close to another boy like that was an option. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Kakeru moves away a bit. 

“No, I—” Yuki leans forward, putting a palm on Kakeru’s cheek and pressing their lips together.

Kakeru kisses him back, close-mouthed and slow. Yuki shivers a little when Kakeru puts a hand on his waist, and Yuki threads his fingers through Kakeru’s hair. 

It feels better than Yuki had thought it would. None of them want to admit it, but the cursed Sohmas are more than a little touch-starved. Before he became friends with Kakeru, the most physical relationship Yuki had was—well, it was with Kyo. Not that they touched for very long, or did anything other than fight, but it was embarrassingly exhilarating to touch Kyo sometimes. 

Kakeru wraps his arm fully around Yuki’s waist, bringing them chest-to-chest, and Yuki gasps and opens his mouth. Heat flushes through him as Kakeru’s tongue slips into his mouth. He suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing sweats. 

Kakeru pulls back. They’re both panting a little, and Yuki’s relieved to see that Kakeru’s face is red, too. 

“How high are you?” Kakeru asks. 

“Very,” Yuki says. Kakeru makes a humming sound and pulls away. He lights the new joint and Yuki watches the flame on the lighter flicker, a little transfixed. Kakeru inhales and sticks his fingers between Yuki’s lips, forcing his mouth open, then leans forward to press their lips together again, blowing smoke into Yuki’s mouth. 

Yuki inhales too quickly, surprised, and rears back, coughing into his elbow. 

“Well, that wasn’t very sexy,” Kakeru says. 

“I was—not expecting—” Yuki gets out. Kakeru laughs as Yuki gulps down the rest of his water from earlier. “Try again?”

Kakeru nods, and Yuki’s prepared, this time. He breaths in when Kakeru’s lips press against his, and lets the smoke blow out of his nose when Kakeru doesn’t move away. 

He gets lost, a little. Time is moving slowly, and Kakeru’s hands on his shoulders feel so hot, and the foot of the couch is digging into his back now. He thinks he might be a little too enthusiastic, but he’s also too high to care, letting himself squeeze Kakeru’s hips as he sits up to straddle Yuki’s lap. 

Kakeru leans down and starts kissing down his neck, stopping to suck a little on the skin there, and Yuki can’t stop his hips from twitching forward to find Kakeru’s thigh. 

Yuki gasps, a high-pitched noise that he didn’t make on purpose. Honestly, Yuki doesn’t even masturbate that much—for a teenage boy, anyway—and so the sensation of Kakeru’s thigh on Yuki’s dick feels overblown. 

“Sorry,” he breaths, scooting away from Kakeru minutely.

“It’s okay,” Kakeru mutters into Yuki’s shoulder. The hand on Yuki’s chest slides down to his stomach. “I can—if you want—”

Yuki swallows. He _ does _ want. His dick is overriding his embarrassment, and he can feel himself nodding. 

The second Kakeru’s hand presses between Yuki’s legs, Yuki realizes he’s not going to last. He exhales hard through his nose when Kakeru squeezes, and buries his face in the couch cushion when Kakeru slips his hand into Yuki’s underwear. The muscles in his thighs twitch involuntarily as Kakeru starts pumping him, and the breathy pants he’s letting out are cacophonous to his own ears.

Everything is Kakeru’s nose pressed against his neck, his hand wrapped around Yuki’s dick, and the Mario Kart menu music mixed with the rain pattering against the windows. He squeezes Kakeru’s forearm, tilts his head back onto the couch, and comes into Kakeru’s hand.

Yuki feels wiped. He feels like he just ran a marathon. Honestly, he could fall asleep like this, but he wills himself to sit up straight and open his eyes. Kakeru’s staring at him, flushed and wide-eyed.

“What?” Yuki asks, all his self-consciousness from earlier returning in one sudden wave. 

“Nothing,” Kakeru says. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Me neither.” Yuki’s eyes flick down to the floor so he doesn’t have to hold Kakeru’s gaze anymore, but they get caught on his lap. His pajama pants are still tented; Kakeru laughs a little breathlessly. “Do you want me to?”

“Sure,” Kakeru says, shrugging casually, but his already-blown pupils seem to dilate a little more. 

Yuki leans forward and kisses Kakeru before slipping his hand into his pants. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, and the little gust of breath Kakeru lets out at the contact sends a thrill through Yuki. 

His arm is cramped between the couch and his own torso, and he thinks it’s maybe a little too dry, but Kakeru doesn’t seem to mind. His lips go slack against Yuki’s and he makes a small, vulnerable noise before spilling into Yuki’s palm. 

“Ugh,” Kakeru says after a few moments, pulling away a little bit. “Let’s go wash the spunk off our hands.”

“Gross, Kakeru.”

“Oh, please.” Kakeru helps Yuki up and they stumble to the kitchen together. Yuki’s ass is asleep and his feet are dragging a little. 

“I’m so ready to sleep,” Kakeru says, flicking water into Yuki’s face. 

“God, me too,” Yuki says, splashing water onto Kakeru’s shirt. Kakeru shoves Yuki away from the sink before turning it off and heading back into the living room.

“Just help me clean up the food. I don’t want my mom coming home to a bunch of rats on our coffee table.”

“There’s no rats in your building,” Yuki says as he puts a half-eaten carton of fries away. 

“Dude, what?”

Yuki balks. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Shit. 

“Ignore me, I’m high,” he waves his hand, smiling.

Kakeru squints at him. “You’re so weird.”

“Not a very nice thing to say to someone who just gave you a handjob.”

“Shut up!” Kakeru laughs. He looks down at the scattered papers that are now fully underneath the coffee table and sighs. “We didn’t get any of this done.”

“So we’ll do it tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Mister President,” Kakeru says, saluting with one hand and throwing balled-up trash at the garbage can with the other. 

“You missed.”

“You know what? You’re uninvited to my sleepover.” 

“Sure, Kakeru.” Yuki rolls his eyes and heads in the direction of Kakeru’s bedroom. 

“Fuck you!” Kakeru calls from the kitchen. “I get the left side of the bed, Sohma!”

Yuki barely hears him, and he’s curled under the covers by the time Kakeru comes in and shoves him to the right side of the bed. 

_ I’ve never shared a bed with someone before_, Yuki thinks hazily. Kakeru’s breathing evens out, and Yuki lets his eyes fall closed, the sound of rain drowning out the rest of his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> considering how much weed i smoke and how much time i dedicate to thinking about yuki sohma i shouldve written this thing in 20 minutes but no. it took me like two months. ok
> 
> for the record kakeru is 100% kelso he just WANTS to be hyde
> 
> hmu on tumblr @ sophelstien! or my fruits basket blog yukisohmasmokesweed :) and if u care to reblog the fic: https://sophelstien.tumblr.com/post/186748033172/if-i-ever-feel-better-reconquer-fruits-basket


End file.
